From past imperfect to future perfect

It's necessary to take a pause and appreciate some good things. Life's too short to be wasted on finding faults every minute. Even wool-knitting grandmothers and Harvard economists whisper that nothing's perfect. But who cares? People with a discerning eye that detects a loose brick in an auditorium, a stray word in a police report, a missing rupee in a flyover project or a slip of the minister's tongue, will go on discovering imperfection till doomsday.This practice is not bad. It's a sign of a healthy, proactive society.
But too much fault-finding can land you at fault.
Bangalore doesn't deserve this treatment. The softest, politest and safest metro in this country can't be let to drown in a sea of pessimism, no matter what its weaknesses, by the same people who could save it. Lower a rope, extend a hand and raise the city's weakening confidence, not beat it with a stick. Here's a quick patchwork list of the punching bags, according to descending rank:
Bangalore roads, don���t take me home: Much has been said about roads here. The topic has become a springboard for clever satirists to launch their career. But even jokers occasionally need to take a walk or drive out. That's when the joke is on them. Face it: unsound planning is not the only reason why potholes never seem to disappear, but a rapidly multiplying population that never stops demanding water, phone and power connections leaves planners with no choice except to settle for here-and-now solutions and keep digging up. Roads are bad, all things being equal, due to the sheer size of the population. Certainly, better satellite towns will come up in the near future and will give room to the city to breathe. All is not lost. But don't drink and drive.
Netagiri: It's a waste of time to nagger politicians here for their shortcomings. They always fall short of something wherever they are on this planet. Instead, people should thank their stars and Jupiter and Saturn that fate has not planted the Parliament in Bangalore or destiny has not played a cruel joke by locating the city a little farther up north, where Uttar Pradesh is currently sitting. Imagine how it would have been if every random person you run into on the streets kept yelling in your ears that he or she is the son or daughter of this or that big shot? Worse, menus at some restaurants in Agra include 'MLA and MP special' for dishes of the day, similar to half-plate and full-plate. At least spare the food. Bangalore, after all, is not such a bad place taking into account all its political imperfections. This city is too large-hearted to fall into a cesspool (you know which one).
Simply police: In films, they show cops as underpaid, overworked and sleep-ridden organisms who take pleasure in making life difficult for citizens. In reality, Bangaloreans see cops as underpaid, overworked and sleep-ridden organisms who take pleasure in making life difficult for denizens. Similar to roads, police are good material for opportunistic comedians. But policing is not a joke. It's a nursery school wisdom that you can't keep everybody, everywhere happy, but you can try to keep them happy as much as you can. That's what the cops do, and they sometimes fail. Who doesn't? Some cops may be rough, some soft, some bad, some nice. And the city needs them.
Activism's activism: Don't injure elephants. Don't cut trees. Don't release gas, all kinds of gas, natural and human-made. These annoying activities harm the city. All right, in order to see through the test is easy: go to any environment seminar and when it's over, see how the learned person goes home - on an oil-guzzling (unleaded petrol to keep conscience clear) piston-pulled vehicle. Unmasked, the bottomline is that people need to think practically. It's with great hope and ambition that one wishes this city will someday surpass the immense metropolitan New York. And to reach there, some churning is necessary.
Metro mania: Here's a who-wants-to-be-a-crorepati question. You win if you give the right answer: On a rainy day, just when you're about to leave for your workplace, you discover that the roads have turned into lakes and the only way to reach your destination is to quickly patch up a wax wing or take a ride on the elevated Metro Rail, staring at the water-soaked city below. Which of the two options will land you in your cubicle swiftly?
In this mixed-up march towards development and confusing times, it's safe to conclude that the first step towards mental peace is to cut down on demanding heavenly answers to unrealistic, or perhaps, phony questions. The person whose feet are glued firmly on the ground has a lesser chance of tripping.